


Dear Jeanne

by Airanke



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, World of Warcraft - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26710855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airanke/pseuds/Airanke
Summary: You walked into my life like you had always lived there; like my heart was a home built just for you.- A. R. Asher.
Relationships: Shion Rejamike / Jeanne Delory
Kudos: 1





	1. Say it in a Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [20DruidicKats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/20DruidicKats/gifts).



> Hey, hi, hello, this is me posting all the drabbles and stories and AU ideas I have for my sweet hunter boy, Shion, and my good friend Druidickats fiery druid girl, Jeanne. I will note the AU, the prompt, the storyline - EVERYTHING in either these notes, or chapter summaries!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**PROMPT / SENTENCE STARTERS:["Various Lyrics from my Playlist"](https://rpmemes-galore.tumblr.com/post/185157860674/various-lyrics-from-my-playlist-sentence)**

> “And I know  _ exactly _ what I’m for, to  _ hurt  _ and  _ destroy  _ and  _ nothing _ more.”
> 
> “Does it ever get lonely?”

The room was entirely trashed: desk broken in half, chairs laying in pieces, and the bed slumped to one side. Covers had been shredded, and curtains had been torn down from their rack.

Jeanne stood in the doorway, stunned - and a yelp escaped her when she heard the mirror in the bathroom shatter, followed by an animalistic snarl.

A vase that had been in the bathroom came flying out next, where it broke against the wall. The pieces tinkled down to the floor, and the noble thought that  _ perhaps _ it would be in her best interest to leave Shion be.

After all, he stalked out of the bathroom, eyes red with rage, mouth twisted in a snarl. He wore his dark armor, accented by bright blues, and his hands shook with undiluted anger.

But something kept Jeanne tethered there, at the door, and when Shion noticed that someone was there and snapped his furious gaze to her, she wondered if it wasn’t perhaps because of the tears streaming down his face.

It had been a long while since Jeanne had seen Shion snap like this, ever since the war of the thorns occurred. He’d fallen off, and though she’d done what she could to track him, even enlisting her brother's help, Shion had proven to be a difficult person to pin down.

Until Ammon had narrowed down his location to this run down, clearly abandoned inn, right in the heart of Drustvar.

“What do you want,” Shion snapped, tone flat despite his choice of language.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she replied, digging her fingers into the doorframe, “what happened?”

“None of your fucking business,” he spat, stalking over to the bed, “leave.”

“After I just  _ found _ you again? I don’t think so,” Jeanne hissed, stepping into the room, and closing the door behind her. Ammon had insisted he stay downstairs, just in case. He had first hand experience with how dangerous Shion could be, and he’d be damned if he let anything happen to his sister.

A pillow smacked against the wall next to her head. She froze.

Sure, pillows were soft, and mostly harmless, but Shion had thrown it with enough force that if he had intended to hit her with it, it surely would have made her lose her balance.

“ _ Leave,  _ Jeanne.”

“ _ Make me, _ Shion.”

Some taunts were truly meant to be reserved for other situations. Shion’s foot slammed against the door, splintering the wood, and his hand wrapped around Jeanne’s throat. His eyes were wide, and feral, and reminded her too much of a worgen gone utterly mad.

“How does your brother like spiders?”

Jeanne shook, wrapping both hands around Shion’s wrist.

“How ‘bout ones that are on fire?”

“Shion,” she managed, fighting tooth and nail against shifting into a worgen, because that would get her  _ nowhere _ , “please. This isn’t you.”

“This  **_is_ ** me,” he snarled, and his grip around her neck fluctuated between being tight and loose.

“Berserking like this isn’t healthy for you, and you know it,” Jeanne countered. She moved her hands from his wrist to cup his face, and apparently, his tears weren’t stopping either, “you’re going to get sick.”

Shion’s expression was twisted between rage and despair. Jeanne wished she’d known what had caused this shift in him. She wished there was something she could have done to stop whatever had happened.

She didn’t like seeing him like this.

Jeanne’s sensitive ears picked up on a racket downstairs, and Shion’s eyes only shimmered more brightly with that sick red. The despair in his expression was entirely quashed by the rage.

He shifted his hand from her neck to her collar, and threw her roughly away from the door.

Shion proceeded to draw his leg back and kick it open, and Erasmus came charging through along the ceiling, hissing and spitting. The massive lava spider dragged someone along with him.

“Ammon!” Jeanne cried, and Shion snapped various commands so rapidly in Zandali that she didn’t catch what he was saying.

Erasmas, however, deposited Ammon on the bed. He ‘oomphed’, and promptly rolled off the bed and onto the floor.

“Ammon,” Jeanne hurried over to the bed while Erasmus scurried over to Shion. He climbed up onto Shion’s back, where he perched on the hunter’s shoulder.

Jeanne helped Ammon to his feet, “I’m ‘aight! Didn’ bite me or nothin’, jus’ didn’t seem ta like me tryna’ get away from ‘im.”

“ _ This _ is why I told you, you shouldn’t stay,” Jeanne hissed. Ammon raised a brow at her, obviously confused that she was speaking in Darnassian. Shion was muttering under his breath, and when Jeanne looked back at him, he had his hand up to Erasmus’ mouth. The spider was gnawing on said hand.

“Shion-- hey!”

The hunter had turned on his heel and started down the stairs, muttering furiously in demonic now. Ammon grabbed Jeanne’s shoulder.

“Jeanne, maybe you should--”

“NO!” she cut him off, and stormed in the direction Shion had gone, “after how  _ long _ it took us ta find ‘im? No. No, I’m not leaving him, no’ again.”

Ammon frowned, but he followed her - and then both moved more quickly when the sounds of scuffling reached their ears. Erasmus was skittering about on the ceiling while Shion was grappling with a forsaken assassin.

Jeanne would have gone to help, but Ammon pulled her back. Frustrated, she yelled, “what do you think you’re for, Shion!?”

“I know  _ exactly _ what I’m for!” he snarled. He pulled out his gun while the assassin struggled to get out of his grip.

“To  _ hurt,  _ and  _ destroy _ , and  _ nothing,  _ **_MORE!_ ** ”

He shoved his gun down the Forsaken’s throat and - to Jeanne’s horror - pulled the trigger. He threw both gun and body away from himself, and the assassin hit the wall with a sickening thud before dropping to the floor, lifeless.

Shion turned his attention to the twins next, and Ammon clutched Jeanne to his person as the troll stalked over--

And shoved both of them to the side roughly, before  _ another _ assassin charged into them. Jeanne couldn’t stop the cry of fear that escaped her when she saw the woman’s blade go right through Shion.

In turn, Shion grabbed the woman’s face - he’d kept his stance firmly, and hadn’t moved an inch from where he’d stopped after shoving the twins to the side - and dug his fingers into her eyes, and mouth.

Jeanne could only watch, mortified, as Shion tore the assassin’s jaw clean off. It dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter, and Shion slammed what remained of her face against the nearest table.

Again, and again, and again, until Jeanne’s shift into a worgen allowed her to tear free of her brother’s grip.

She grabbed Shion’s wrist tightly, and the bicep of his other arm.

“BY THE LIGHT SHION  _ STOP! _ ” she howled in his face. He didn’t falter. The only thing between them for a moment was ragged breathing, and still, that sickening red hue in his eyes refused to go away.

“Shion  _ please _ ,” Jeanne begged, unintentionally shifting back to her human form, “please, you aren’t meant for causing pain a-and hurt ‘n’ destruction, this isn’t you.”

He yanked himself out of her grip, and Erasmus reared up threateningly. Black ichor dripped from his mouth, and Jeanne could only assume that the spider had been dealing with some forsaken outside the building.

_ ‘Did they follow us? Did we lead them to Shion? Oh gods, _ ’ Jeanne wiped shakily at her eyes. She had started crying,  _ ‘oh gods,  _ **_oh gods.’_ **

Shion merely stormed out of the building, and half-way past the threshold of the building he deposited the assassin’s dagger on the ground. Ammon was by the weapon in an instant, and Jeanne collected herself as best she could. She hurried after Shion, and her heart sunk when she saw Erasmus nowhere to be seen.

“Jeanne.”

She stopped mid-stride at her brother’s voice, watching as Shion rapidly disappeared into the dense thicket of Drustvar.

“Yes?” she asked shakily.

“Just wait a minute.”

“Ammon, we can’t--”

“I need ya ta  _ wait, _ ” he interrupted, face red with frustration. He held the dagger out for her to see, and between smears of Shion’s blood, she saw the swirling poison that made the red bubble and rot, “so tha’ I c’n make an antidote for this, real quick. With your help. He’s poisoned.”

Jeanne sunk to her knees, face pale - but with her expertise, and her brother’s infinite knowledge of rogue poisons, they formed an antidote within minutes. Jeanne was grateful for all that she had spent so much time under the tutelage of Boralus’ most talented potion master.

Following Shion’s trail was easier than it should have been. His blood made a bright red trail against the dreary background of Drustvar’s forest floor.

They found him lying on his back a good distance away from the inn.

“Shion!” Jeanne sprinted toward him; Ammon sighed, but he followed faithfully after his sister.

The troll didn’t make a sound when Jeanne dropped down next to him. She immediately pulled down the collar of cloth on his armor and pressed her fingers to his pulse,  _ ‘please, oh gods, please--’ _

A shaky breath of relief left her. His heart was still beating, and with that worry out of the way, Jeanne watched his chest intently. It rose and fell with a shallow breath.

She brushed her fingers along Shion’s cheek; his eyes flicked to her. Jeanne gave him the best smile she could manage, and he closed his eyes tightly before looking away.

“Don’t you get lonely?” she asked, wiping away a spec of blood from the corner of Shion’s mouth. She didn’t know if she should be happy, or sad, that her question made his lips quirk up at one side.

“Yeah.”

“Come back t’ Gilneas with me,” Jeanne said; she didn’t miss how Ammon’s brow furrowed at this, “I c’n hide ya in th’ old mansion.”

Shion inhaled raggedly, and Ammon reached into his pouch for the antidote.

“Jus’ drop a fuckin’ rock on my head and let it be done,” Shion sputtered. The red had finally faded from his kind brown eyes, “‘m tired.”

Jeanne accepted the vial when Ammon handed it to her, and she attempted to bring the object to Shion’s lips, “here.”

He turned his head away, and she supposed she should have expected that. Her hand shook.

“Shion, please,” she begged softly, tears gathering in her eyes. She fumbled for the words to say, while her brother clenched both hands into fists.

Before Jeanne could try once more to put the antidote to Shion’s lips, he wrapped his large hand around hers entirely.

And, to her comfort, Shion pulled her hand and the vial to his lips. He downed the whole thing, and sat up, coughing. She realized that some of her tears had dripped onto his face,  _ ‘I wonder if that’s what spurred him.’ _

“I feel like I’mma cough up half m’ lung,” Shion wheezed. Ammon snorted out a chuckle, and Jeanne couldn’t stop a smile from crossing her lips.

The brief happiness was short lived.

As Ammon helped Shion to his feet, the hunter fixed his eyes on Jeanne. For whatever reason, he chose to speak Darnassian again, “I can’t come with you.”

Jeanne frowned, “why not?”

“Because this isn’t about keeping me safe. This is about keeping everyone  _ I _ care about safe. I’m not safe. Sylvanas’ assassins follow me everywhere, and the S1:7 agents are no better,” he shook his head when Jeanne made to argue, “don’t argue with me, Jeanne. Being around me puts a target on your back too. I already had to have this conversation with someone else.”

“Shion, just let your friends  _ help you _ !” she snapped, “because we care about your safety too!”

“Oh yeah? So you’re going to fight Nathanos when he finds me again? You’re going to fight  _ Shaw _ ?”

That made Jeanne falter, and Shion continued, “because Shaw is after my head too. If it’s any consolation to you, I’m safest in Anyport. I’m out here because there were too many assassins lurking around there for me to be comfortable.”

“But the guards--”

“Yeah, sure, woulda’ helped, but it’s my problem. I care ‘bout the people in Anyport. I don’t want them to suffer because of my presence.”

Jeanne was determined, “can we compromise? There’s a place where I can take you, they don’t mind who’s there,” she held up her hand when Ammon made to protest, “and they’re not weak people either. They can handle themselves. Stay with me for two weeks, until you’re well, and then you can leave.”

Shion sighed, and Jeanne continued, “you’re in no position to continue, Shion. And your fatigue is going to catch up with you eventually. You can’t berserk that long and face no backlash.  _ You _ of all people should know that.”

He sighed again, but thankfully, stopped trying to argue with her.


	2. I'm not a monster

**From the["Transference" prompt list](https://memesandzodiacs.tumblr.com/post/182963912322/transference-prompts)**, quoted from a game by the same name, put together by myself.

> “I’m not a monster.”  
> “Always yours, always mine.”

The air was cold, and quiet. Jeanne wasn’t sure where she was, and she didn’t care. She had to run away; she _had to_. She was torn between the primal urge to go back into her worgen form, and the instinct to run.

And then there was the part of her that was terrified that if she _did_ shift back into a worgen, Shion would come and calm her down again - with his too gentle hands, and his too soft whispers. Jeanne remembered in vivid detail how he had moved so smoothly, setting down the rifle he was polishing in one fluid motion before his hands were running through the fur of her neck.

For the life of her, Jeanne couldn’t remember what had triggered the transformation, _‘why can’t I remember. What was said? Did someone threaten me? Threaten_ **_him_ ** _? What happened? I’ve never shifted like that before, it was like I’d lost all control.’_

That was why she’d run. She didn’t understand what had happened before her transformation, and she didn’t know what had happened after. One moment she was snarling at someone, the next she was being calmed right back into her human form by Shion.

A bitter laugh escaped her, “did ah really expect anything less, from a beastmaster like Shion?”

“Mebbe ya did.”

Jeanne bristled, but refused to look over her shoulder. Instead, she rolled her eyes, hugged herself, and retorted, “trackin’ me, huh?”

“I be a huntah, be wat we do, Alabaster.”

“Couldn’t ya give me a cuter nickname?” Jeanne asked, hoping to detract from the conversation. Shion’s breath was on her neck and she staggered forward before turning around to face him, hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.

Shion’s expression was solemn. It didn’t suit him any more than a crazed smile did.

“I’m not a monster.”

Darnassian didn’t suit him either. His tone was haunting. His expression was dead.

“I didn’t… I didn’ say ya were,” Jeanne said.

“You look at me like I am.”

She grit her teeth, continuing to reply in Common in hopes that it would encourage him to _stop speaking in such a foreign way,_ “I didn’ mean to.”

“Didn’t you?”

Claws shot out of her finger tips. Jeanne bared her teeth, and the hackles on her neck stood up as if she were in her worgen form. Shion stood where he remained cast in shadows, with that red tinge to his kind brown eyes. Behind him, the dark branches of the trees seemed to bend and shift out of shape.

A snarl ripped it’s way up Jeanne’s throat when Shion raised a hand toward her, palm up, just below her eyeline. It was so similar to the gesture he’d given her just thirty minutes ago at the inn.

“I don’t _KNOW YOU ANYMORE!”_ she screeched, furious that she’d had to admit it. That she didn’t know him anymore, that in his growing up he’d become someone she didn’t recognize.

His physical scars were the same, but his internal ones had left him shredded in a way only Jeanne would realize.

“You’re not the _same_ , I don’t--” she backed up as Shion took a step toward her and out of the shadows-- “you aren’t th’ same Shion tha’ I remember, and it’s not like I don’t like that bu’ I don’t know whot ta do when you- you--”

Shion was gripping her chin firmly in his hand. Jeanne stuttered on a breath. Grabbed his wrist in her now wholly human hands.

“Shion--”

He pressed a finger to her lips. Life returned so violently to his eyes that she gasped.

“I grew up.”

“Stop _talkin’_ in Darnassian, _please,_ ” she begged. He sounded so haunted; haunted, and _hunted_ , like he were a drawing on a sign whose bounty kept increasing while his age never changed.

Shion tilted his head to the side. A smile pulled at the thin line that was his lips. His finger was still on her mouth, as if he were feeling every breath she released.

“Always yours,” he murmured, moving the digit to the side of her lips.

And then he filled her vision, and her next breath was his.

“ _Always mine_.”

Jeanne grabbed at his dark hair, twisting her fingers in the dark locks, desperate for something to hold onto.

“An’ if ya don’ be tinkin’ dat ya know me anymore,” he purred, and his smirk was one that Jeanne could _taste_ , “why don’ ya get ta know me again, Jeanne~?”


	3. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resident Evil AU! I'm still in the process of working out all my own virus stuff, and things like that (and there will be a LOT more drabbles for this AU HAHA I might end up making it it's own thing... but it's really just drabbles and nothing more - also yes Amita is in this AU too HAHA oh man.... I love RE so much...) but the TL;DR is that Shion has a unique type of Dominant Species Plaga (the one that allows control of Lickers) and Jeanne is part of the police force. I felt that the whole Burning of Stratholme could easily be changed into a Resident Evil type thing and thus, this whole ass AU was born!

From the ["Fucked Up Kisses"](https://memesandzodiacs.tumblr.com/post/190245826412/selfsaving-a-fucked-up-kissing-meme-bc) prompt list.

> "a kiss to gain control".

Jeanne had to stop to catch her breath - but she had the mercenary cornered.

"Give it up, Rejamike!" she called, holding her gun at the ready, "I  _ have  _ you cornered!"

His laugh carried through the building; screaming and gunshots sounded down below. This building was all but abandoned, thankfully, but Statholme was slowly going to hell. Arthas had ordered something about having the city purged over the comms, and Jeanne had wasted no time in hunting down Shion.

"Where ya buddies,  _ Delroy~?” _ he sneered. She could hear that he was winded, and Jeanne exhaled deeply.

“I don’t need my partners to take you in,” there was a pause, before she softly added, “don’t make me do this, Shion.”

He sighed, “worried about me, Joan?”

She spun out from behind the wall and took a warning shot where she assumed Shion was hiding. His curse was audible, and Jeanne’s lips pulled up in a smirk.

“That’s a warning.”

“You tryna’ bring infected up here?”

“Come out with your hands up,” Jeanne ordered, “and slide that briefcase of yours over.”

“Alright, alright,” Shion stepped out of the room he was in - the last, decrepit office on this floor, and the only thing that had stopped him from getting away from her. He leaned down to set the briefcase on the floor, and slid it across the cement toward her.

Quickly, she moved forward, gun trained on him. Her heel cracked against the briefcase as she set her foot on it.

Shion straightened, arms up, but the defiance was obvious in his eyes. Jeanne took another deep breath to steady herself, her eyes darting over the area. There were two support pillars, one broken in places, one right next to her, overturned desks, broken chairs, and scattered computers and other equipment. The place was a mess.

“Ya didn’ answah mah question.”

“I don’t need ta, Ca-- Shion,” she bit her tongue, and scowled when he grinned, “jus’ come quietly, will you? Don’ make this harder than it needs ta be.”

“Yeah?” he had that  _ tone _ to his voice as he inched closer. Jeanne couldn’t stop the slight tremble in her hands. Another breath settled her nerves--

He was quick. He kicked the briefcase out from under her foot, throwing her off-balance, and without giving Jeanne a chance to recover, Shion tucked his knee between her legs as she unwillingly fell against him when he kicked the briefcase away.

Jeanne didn’t even realize he had disarmed her until she heard her gun hit the floor with a loud clack. She leaned her head back, breaths quick, and Shion gripped the edges of the pillar on either side of her. He held her in place with his body, knee urging her legs a little further apart.

“I  _ like _ ta make tings harder for m’self,” he murmured, leaning into her space. Jeanne glowered at him, fighting back the heat that rose to her cheeks.

He had her in a lip lock before she could make a retort.

Just like old times.

Before Shion's research division went to hell and he disappeared.

Memories barraged her mind: the first time they ran into each other at the local pub, the first accidental kiss, the first  _ real _ kiss, that day on the beach, that day in the forest on the trail, the day before he disappeared in the rain…

The first time he came home with her; the first time she went home with him.

Shion pressed harder against her, mouth so intent on hers that she was sure she'd bruise. His tongue was persistent, and she was all too eager for him - but both were too stubborn to latch on to the other. Shion's hands tightened on the edges of the pillar, and Jeanne's fingernails dug into the cement behind her.

She could feel her drive to bring him in slowly fading with every desperate swipe of his tongue; every slow, deliberate roll of his hips against hers robbed her of control and gave it to him.

Jeanne wanted to twist her fingers in his black hair and never let go. He kissed her until spit was dribbling down both their chins. 

And then he pulled away, leaving her to gasp loudly. Shion licked his lips. He took a step back. Wiped his mouth over the back of his hand.

Then stooped down, grabbed the briefcase, and was gone.

Jeanne pressed her head back against the pillar again, fighting against anger, fighting against sorrow. A broken sob lodged itself in her throat - but she reigned it all in, pushing the memories of Shion to the back of her mind.

Her hands stopped shaking the moment her gun was back in her grip.


End file.
